WESSLEY

It was impossible for Wesley not to think that Fred was the most adorable woman he had ever seen in his entire life: chipmunk cheeks, powdered sugar on her lips... She looked akin to a child caught in the act of stealing from a batch of cookies that were supposed to be saved for a special occasion. With every cute detail Wesley discovered about Fred, he loved her even more and his life became just a little more harder. To love a woman with all of his heart and be unable to truly be with her because of words spoken by a vampire more than an year ago... Wesley tried to push his thoughts away from Angelus and the fact that the vampire's shadow still came between him and Fred. Fred's sheepish smile and the slight blush of her cheeks were met with an endearing smile of his own. As she managed to swallow the mouthful she had tried to hide and explained what it was and the reason why it became her victim, Wesley chuckled softly. "Ah, well, if it ruined the landscape then I supposed it was only fair that you got it out of the way. I assume all of the other missing buildings and villagers had some sort of flaw that ruined the scene?", he teased her, revealing the fact that he had noted how the gingerbread scene became smaller by the day. When Fred brushed away the powdered sugar from his chin, for a brief moment, Wesley imagined how it would have been had she kissed the sugar away. Perhaps, one day, all of the walls between them would finally tumble down?

"I'll help."

Wesley was ready to protest at Fred's intention to take one of the shopping bags and carry it to the kitchen for him but, seeing that she already reached out for one, he handed her the smaller of the two. He really needed to get used to the idea that she was not a helpless young woman any more and that he needed to stop acting as if she were unable to take care of herself. For quite a part of the past year she had been the one taking care of him – that should have been more than enough proof of the fact that she was quite able to take care of herself and did not need him to act like a mother hen or like a ridiculously mannered British snob. "Thank you", he replied and started leading the way towards the kitchen. "It was a slow day", Wesley answered to her question. "There wasn't much business, to be honest. All the agitation revolved around decorating for tonight." He had been tempted to admit that this was the reason why he was home so early but he was aware that it was possible that such a comment could be taken wrong. There were times when Fred seemed very insecure about everything and the last thing Wesley wanted was to fuel that – more than he already did.

Arriving in the kitchen, he placed the bag on the counter and began unloading the items he had bought, both from the bag he had carried and from the one Fred had, since she moved her attention to the teapot. Wesley's lips curled into a smile. She was spoiling him, always waiting for him with a cup of his favorite tea when he returned home from a dull day at work – a routine he certainly loved, in spite of the fact that it was very stereotypically British. Once the items were all out of the bags, he started arranging them into the cupboards, respecting Fred's system of organizing things. His system before she moved in with him consisted in leaving things in what could be described as an organized chaos: he could find everything he needed but it was doubtful that anyone else could have found something without searching for some long minutes. Wesley imagined that it must have been hard for Fred during their first couple of days back in Los Angeles, all alone in a house she was unfamiliar with and him being sedated most of the time, unable to help her find her way. Things evolved in such a way that it was safe to say that Fred was more familiar now with the running of the household than he was. When she spoke to him, Wesley turned to watch her with a smile on his face. "We almost had a case but after a brief investigation it turned out to be a sighting of an elf", he replied, keeping his answer in the festive spirit of the question. "Grinches... Hmm, I do believe the last of them was swayed down the right path by a fearless demon hunter that likes to eat crooked haystacks."